Bachelor Party
by Vol lady
Summary: A small party among the Barkley brothers on the night before Nick's and Heath's weddings to Nancy and Suzanne. ("You call that a scar? I'll show you a scar!)


Bachelor Party

May 1881

Jarrod poured the scotch into three glasses and delivered two to his brothers. "This is the best scotch you can get in San Francisco, so don't spill it."

"Is that part of your hidden stash?" Nick asked as he took his glass, a bit shaky.

This wasn't their first glass of liquor this evening. Together in the study, they were enjoying a bachelor party the night before the double wedding of Nick to Nancy and Heath to Suzanne. They each already had a nice buzz from Nick's favorite whiskey.

Jarrod was being a little sneaky about his liquor, making sure to pour himself a bit less than he poured for his brothers. Liquor didn't sit well with him these days, and he wanted to stay more sober than his brothers anyway. "No, I brought this from home," Jarrod said. "My hidden stash here is going to remain hidden for a while." Jarrod raised his glass then. "To my brothers – who finally found true love and made their mother a very happy woman – but whether they can make Nancy and Suzanne very happy women remains to be seen."

"Aaaah," Nick and Heath said together, but they drank the toast anyway.

Heath let his slightly blurry gaze fall on Jarrod's arm. His sleeves were rolled up, and Heath saw the dark round scar on his left arm. "Where'd you get that scar, Jarrod?"

"What scar?" Jarrod asked.

"On your arm – that from the war?"

Jarrod looked. "Yeah, the war with the Christmas tree when it caught fire, right after the war. Got some good ones from the real war, though."

Jarrod put down his glass, set his foot on the coffee table and rolled up his pantleg, revealing a nice round bullet scar in the calf.

"You call that a scar?" Nick belted out. He put his foot on the coffee table next to Jarrod's, rolled up his own pantleg and revealed a long slash across the calf. "I got that from a sabre, boy. You're little minie scar can't match that."

"Yeah, he got it when he dropped his sabre and cut himself," Heath laughed.

Nick and Jarrod put their feet back on the floor. "Very funny," Nick said. "Got more of that scotch?"

Jarrod refilled the glasses for his brothers. His own still had liquor in it.

Heath said, "I can match you both with scars. Got lots on my back from whippings." He got up and started to lift the back of his shirt, but he lost his balance and began to pitch forward.

Jarrod caught him and pushed him back onto the sofa. "We know, we've seen them, and we've both got them, too," Jarrod said.

"All right," Heath said, put his glass down and pushed his left sleeve up to reveal a slash like Nick's. "Got this when a piece of shrapnel went flying by and I protected my pretty face. It bests your little Christmas tree battle."

Nick rolled up his sleeve, too. "You call that a scar? I'll show you a scar." Nick had a short but wide scar on his left forearm. "THIS is a shrapnel scar. Got it when I pushed a kid out of the way and saved his life."

"All right," Jarrod said and pulled the front of his shirt up. There was a long and wide scar across his left side. "I got a nice big chunk taken out of my bicep at Antietam, but this – this is my real mark of war."

"He got it in a brothel in Washington," Nick said, and he and Heath laughed.

"I did not get it in a brothel in Washington," Jarrod said. "Got it from a cavalry battle in Virginia – can't even remember where. Everybody thought this one was gonna kill me, but it was the minie ball across the side of my head that nearly did me in."

Heath and Nick leaned closer to look at the scar on Jarrod's side. Heath said, "Yeah, I noticed that one before, never thought to ask where you got it."

"We all got so many scars – who even cared where we got them?" Nick asked.

Jarrod let his shirt fall but did not tuck it into his pants. "Mother probably cared, but she's always had the good sense not to ask."

Heath sighed. "Yeah, my mother cared, too, and she did ask. When I was with her, I had to explain every little wound I came home with, even this one."

Heath put his foot up on the coffee table and pulled his pantleg up. Jarrod and Nick looked, but neither one of them could see a scar. They looked closer. Nick nearly fell over looking closer, but Jarrod caught him and put him upright again.

"I don't see anything," Nick said.

"My mother did," Heath said and pointed to a tiny scar just below his knee.

Nick looked closer again, but Jarrod kept hold of him so he wouldn't fall forward. "Damn, Heath, I still don't see anything."

"That's because you're drunk," Jarrod said.

Nick straightened. "I am not drunk. I'm – " Nick fumbled for a better word, but it didn't come. "I guess I'm drunk."

Heath put his pantleg down. "I got that little bitty scar when I fell on a rock when I was ten. My mother acted like I was gonna lose my leg."

"You could have," Jarrod said. "One little infection, and you could have. We all could have lost limbs in the war and we're damned lucky we didn't."

Nick and Heath finished off their scotch and held their glasses out for Jarrod to refill, which he did. After he did, he flopped down into a chair across from the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table. They were swollen and they hurt, and they'd been doing that for some time, but Jarrod never talked about it.

"You know," Nick said, "once we're married, we're gonna have to take life a lot more careful than we have until now."

"You got that right," Jarrod said. "It's a whole different situation when you have a woman waiting at home for you."

"Got any advice?" Heath said, his words really slurring now.

Jarrod smiled, knowing his drunken brothers would never remember what he said, but he said it anyway. "Just put her ahead of yourself. Everything you say, everything you do – put her ahead of yourself. You both have lovely, wonderful women you're going to be spending the rest of your lives with. Don't put those lives at risk the way you used to. They're more precious to her than they are to you."

They were quiet for a while then, digesting Jarrod's words, sipping their scotch. Jarrod finally finished his first glass as Nick and Heath finished their third. Nick and Heath held their glasses out to Jarrod again. He got up and refilled his as well as theirs.

As he took them back and sat down again, he said, "We need to quit drinking so that the two of you can get through your vows tomorrow without throwing up."

"You got a point there, Counselor," Nick said and sat down for the first time beside Heath on the sofa.

All three men put their feet up on the coffee table. When there came a knock – more like a soft kick - on the door, Jarrod said, "Come in."

Silas came in, carrying a tray with coffee and cups on it. "I thought you all might need some coffee about now."

All three men put their feet back on the floor as Silas put the coffee on the coffee table.

"You're a lifesaver, Silas," Heath said.

"More than once," Nick said. "Thank you, Silas."

Silas looked around at them, taking note of how out of focus each man's eyes were. Jarrod understood he was doing that and gave him a grin. Nick and Heath were getting farther gone now.

Silas smiled and said, "It's getting onto midnight. The ladies and little J.J. went to bed a long time ago. There's only me to help you up the stairs."

Nick laughed. "We can make it up the stairs, Silas. That's what the handrail's for."

"Why don't you head on to bed, Silas?" Jarrod said. "I'll see these dirty dishes get into the kitchen and washed up."

"Just leave them, Mr. Jarrod," Silas said. "I'll take care of them in the morning. Good night."

They each wished the houseman good night as he left. After the door closed, there was only silence for a little while before Heath said, "I love Silas."

Nick and Jarrod burst into laughter. Jarrod finished off his glass of scotch and started to pour coffee. "All right, I think it's time we put this party to bed."

Nick and Heath finished off their glasses of scotch and the men began to drink coffee instead.

Heath raised his cup and said, "I got one more toast. Here's to my brothers – Jarrod and Nick AND Eugene even if he isn't here for our weddings. Without you, I wouldn't be the man Suzanne fell in love with. I thank you, my brothers, and I love you all as much as I love Silas."

Nick laughed again. Jarrod held his laughter back and said, "And here's to you, Brother Heath, and the man you became. And to you, Brother Nick, the man – well, whatever man you turned into."

Both Nick and Heath laughed again. "One more," Nick said. "Here's to Nancy and Suzanne, the women who have the courage to be marrying us tomorrow."

As if on cue, the clock on the mantle chimed midnight. Jarrod smiled up at it. "It's today, gentlemen," he said.

They finished off their coffee with a last "To all us Barkley men," from Nick.

"Here, here," Heath said.

And now, it was their wedding day.

The End


End file.
